


The mission

by thistels



Series: HYDRA's prisoners [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And dark, Blood As Lube, Dirty Talk, Humiliation, Hydra won, I'm Going to Hell, I'm not sorry though, Light Feminization, M/M, Manipulation, Rape, References to Steve's pecs being tits, Rumlow is an ass, Slut Shaming, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, You Have Been Warned, plot if you squint, this is pretty filthy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 05:53:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10938345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thistels/pseuds/thistels
Summary: Mostly just dark and filthy porn. HYDRA won, most Avengers and SHIELD are scattered and/or presumed dead.The Winter Soldier overpowers Captain America while on a mission, but he isn't sure what to do with him. Rumlow has a few suggestions before they bring him in to HYDRA.First chapter is written from Brock's perspective, Steve and Bucky will get one each soon.





	1. Brock Rumlow

**Author's Note:**

> I'll issue another warning for rape in case someone missed it. 
> 
> Unbeta'd, might be a mistake or two in there.

”Bucky. Bucky please. You don’t have to do this. Bucky, you know me.”

The unmistakable voice of Steve Rogers stops Brock dead in his tracks. He’d know the voice of Captain Fucking America anywhere, the sound of a god among men. It made his blood boil in more ways than one, grated on his nerves like sandpaper and soothed the hurt like a river of silk at the same time. He drew a breath of relief at knowing that the super-soldier was still alive and cursed his luck that the rumors of his death weren’t true and pressed a finger to the com in his ear.

“Strike, this is Crossbones. I’ve got a situation on level 8. Secure the rest of the building and give me an ETA on the helicopter.”

“ _Do you need backup?”_ Rollin’s answer was immediate.

“No, I’ve got the Asset with me. Set the charges.” Brock answered.

“ _Extraction in 40 minutes_.”

He ran down the corridor to the open door through which he’d heard the captain’s voice, weapons at the ready, and rounded the corner, prepared to witness another breathtaking fight between the finest weapons of HYDRA and SHIELD. What he saw was something else completely.

Rogers was restrained to the floor-to-wall-computer-servers by a pair of magnetic handcuffs, his arms above his head, pleading to the Winter Soldier standing in front of him, barley one feet away.

“Bucky, Bucky you know me.”

Rumlow almost scoffed at that, but he stopped himself before he could make a sound. He wanted to see where this was going before the two men realized that they had company. Or one man at least, the Soldier was barely sentient enough to call a man and besides, Brock was pretty sure that the Winter Soldier already knew he was there. The Asset never missed a thing, it was damn creepy.

“You’re Steve.” The soldier said slowly, lifting his hand and placing it between Roger’s collarbones.

“Yeah, yeah Bucky, it’s me.” The hope shining in those ridiculously (beautiful) blue eyes made Brock want to shake the man. It was pathetic really, how Rogers refused to accept that his friend was gone. Replaced with HYDRA’s programming and fried by thousands of volts of electricity decades ago. That kind of hope was what inspired rebellions and rallied millions of people behind a cause, and it was more dangerous than any weapon HYDRA’s engineers could create.

“You were my mission. You were dead.”

“I didn’t die. I’m still here Buck.”

Brock watched as the Soldier’s metal hand curled around Roger’s bared throat and held his breath the same way Steve did. _Don’t_ , and _do it_ , waging a war in his mind. HYDRA’s orders were clear – Captain Rogers was a threat level 10, presumed dead but there was too little evidence of that to say for sure and there was still a kill-order on his blonde head. But killing the Captain, the national symbol of America, had never sat quite right with Brock. It would be such a waste to simply dispose of all of _that_. Pierce didn’t have any vision. If the soviets had managed to brainwash one super-solider way back when, why couldn’t HYDRA do it again?

“I’m supposed to kill you.” The soldier said and it didn’t seem like Brock was the only one with an inner conflict.

“You don’t have to.” Steve said immediately. Brock hadn’t thought that the epitome of bravery and heroism would start begging for his life that quickly.

“I do.” The Soldier said, the programming pushing to the front of his mind and the gears of the metal arm whirring and clicking as he tightened his grip on Roger’s throat.

“But you don’t want to.” Rogers had to push to get the words out against the hand around his throat. The Soldier stilled at that, the grip around Steve’s throat neither tightening nor loosening.

“What do you want Buck?” Steve pressed and Brock was impressed. It must hurt as hell to talk with the fist of HYDRA choking him like that. He was also fucking annoyed that of course Rogers could handle whatever pain thrown at him and soldier through it. It made Brock’s fingers itch to find a way to break him, to prove that the amazing Captain America had weaknesses just like any other man.

The Soldier growled, and inhuman noise that made Brock tighten his grip on his gun despite the fact that it wasn’t directed toward him. The Winter Soldier was the stuff of nightmares, even though he had been programmed to obey every order Brock gave him. For a few seconds he thought that the Soldier would actually kill Steve. The gears in the arm whirring again as he tightened his grip further and adjusted his fingers to cut off as much of Steve’s air as possible. Brock didn’t know if it was the lighting in the server-room, his own imagination or what he actually saw but he could swear that it looked like Steve was turning blue in the face.

Mission completed, threat eliminated. The only real threat to HYDRA left in the world, gone. He felt like punching something repeatedly when the thought of that only left him with a sour taste in his mouth.

He should celebrate.

_He_ wanted to be the one to kill the Captain.

He didn’t want the Captain to be gone from the world just yet. Not before he could get his hands on that serum-infused body.

And then he heard Steve gasping for breath as the Soldier wrenched his hand away. Fuck. Was his programming starting to break down? The geniuses back at headquarters had promised that the Asset wouldn’t be able to access his old memories, they weren’t there anymore. That was the cliff note-version at least, Brock had pointed his gun at them and was pretty determined to shoot them if they didn’t stop their science-babble when they’d tried to give the long explanation.

“Soldier!” Brock called out, trying to put as much of an order as he could behind his words. He’d jump head first into anything HYDRA ordered him to without blinking, but asserting himself and demanding the Winter Soldier’s respect always made him feel lightheaded. Being convincing enough was all he had, the soldier smelled weakness the same way a shark smelled blood.

Slowly the Asset turned his head to acknowledge Brock, and he had to fight to not let out a long breath of relief.

“Awaiting orders, Sir.” The Soldier calling him sir sent a pleasant shiver down Brock’s spine, especially when he saw the way it made Captain Rogers clench his jaw.

“What do you want to do, Soldier?” Brock asked after a second’s hesitation. He should have told him to finish the Captain. He should have punished the Soldier for letting the biggest threat to HYDRA live a second longer than necessary. He was curious to see how this would play out. There was something hungry in the Soldier’s expression when he looked at Steve instead of the usual blank slate or intense concentration.

“Bucky” Steve started but whatever plea he was about to make died in his throat as he saw the expression on the Soldier’s face.

Brock closed the door to the server room behind him and advanced on the two super-soldiers, slowly as to not trigger a reflex with the Asset. He stopped behind the Soldier’s right shoulder, dominating the Soldier by getting into his space without asking permission. The Soldier’s shoulders tensed a bit but he didn’t lash out and Brock took that as a win. He put his gun back in its holster and looked Steve in the eye for the first time.

“You.” Steve spat.

“Aw, Cap, you miss me? How sweet.” Brock goaded, a smug smile twitching on his lips. Captain America was incapacitated and at his mercy. This had been a dream of his even before he knew that the man was still alive, frozen in the ice, before he joined HYDRA even.

Steve squared his jaw and pointedly looked away from Brock like he was above even trading insults with him and it made Brock furious. Fucking Rogers, still on his high horse acting like he was fucking holy or something. Brock would tear him apart until he screamed, until he couldn’t fucking ignore him anymore. Or maybe he’d have the Soldier do it. That might do some psychological damage.

“Steve.” The Soldier spoke as if he hadn’t even noticed his and Steve’s exchange.

“Yeah Bucky. It’s okay Bucky.” Steve was talking as if speaking to a wounded and scared animal, trying to coax it out from its hiding-place without triggering a fight-response. Maybe the captain had hit his head one too many times jumping out of airplanes without parachutes, because he had to be fucking delusional to believe that that approach would work on the Asset.

“Steve.” The Soldier repeated before putting his flesh hand on Steve’s chest. He dragged the hand down, slowly, deliberately, over one of the Cap’s pecs, ridiculously defined in that dark blue Avenger’s suite. Brock was pretty sure that the confusion on Steve’s face was mirrored on his own for a second, before the hand moved upward again, thumb dragging over a nipple though the fabric. Steve gasped, just the tiniest reaction quickly contained, but neither Brock nor the Soldier had missed it.

And wow.

Just wow.

Brock could work with this.

The Soldier repeated the movement, thumb rubbing slowly until Rogers was biting his lip to stop any noise his body wanted to make. Fuck he was sensitive. Brock wondered if that was all Steve or if it had to do with the serum. And then he realized that he didn’t give two shits, and reached down to his waist, coming up with a large knife.

“Get his clothes off.” He ordered, handing the knife to the Soldier.

If Rogers was nervous to have the Winter Soldier pointing a knife at him he didn’t show it and as usually it both impressed and irritated Brock. He would fucking destroy that calm, make Steve a screaming mess, no matter if he was screaming in pain or for some _other_ reason. Captain America was just a man, no matter who high above the rest of them he thought he was.

The Asset was as good with a knife as he was with any other weapon put in his hands and he made quick work of the costume. Cutting right through the material and tearing at the seams until it fell to pieces on the floor. Brock noticed that the Captain was breathing a little more shallow than before and smiled triumphantly.

Apparently, the reason why it looked like someone had painted the costume straight onto Steve’s body was because he didn’t wear anything underneath it. At all. Brock’s mouth went a bit dry at seeing Captain America in all his naked glory. If he wasn’t already worshipping at the altar of HYDRA he might have gone on his knees before the man. Fuck, perfection didn’t even begin to describe the toned muscles and measured proportions.

God bless America.

Brock took a moment to appreciate the irony of the situation as the Winter Soldier seemed to share his sentiment toward the golden body in front of them. The Soldier’s hand found its way back to Steve’s body after just a few seconds, the knife dropped on the floor somewhere. Brock reached a hand up to his ear and plucked the com-piece out, dropping it on the floor and crushing it under his heal. He’d say that there was a struggle when they took the Captain in, no one would doubt that. 

“Buck-” Steve breathed the word out just as the Soldier took his nipple between his fingers, pulling on it a little and making Steve swallow the last syllable of his name. Maybe Brock was onto something with the theory about Rogers being hit on the head one too many times. How could he look at the thing between them and call it _Bucky_ , like some street-rat kid with a stupid grin? The Soldier was lethal, molded into a weapon that even Alexander Pierce was scared of. And now, somehow he was more intimidating that Brock had ever experienced. More dangerous in his laser-focused determination to get Rogers to keep making those little whimpering noises than he had ever been with explosives and blood on his hands.

And Christ, Captain America was so responsive to the Soldier’s unrelenting touch. He gave up fighting the noises escaping his throat after about five seconds, right after a full-bodied shiver as the Soldier upped the pace, scraping a nail over the already hard nipple. To say that Christmas and all of his birthdays had come at once was understating thing for Brock. Captain America, the strongest soldier in the history of war, perfect and heroic and righteous enough to make you want to vomit was nothing but a needy slut.

It was beautiful.

The Winter Soldier took a step closer to Rogers, his metal hand going up to circle the Captain’s wrists where they were held in place over his head by the modified handcuffs. Silver fingers curling around golden skin, the mechanics of the arm whirring and clicking until it settled into place. Steve let out a few _ah, ah, ah_ :s as the Soldier’s flesh hand moved over to the other pec and started giving it the same treatment. Circling and teasing the area, just grazing the nipple until Steve was arching into his touch. Not that he could move more than an inch with those cuffs, but that only made the whole thing even more erotic.

Brock reached down to readjust his pants when the Soldier started pinching the nipple, switching to roll it between his fingers when it was hard enough and drawing a shaky, loud moan from Steve. The Soldier leaned in before the moan died down, swallowing it as he kissed Steve’s lips. The kiss was aggressive and messy and Steve didn’t respond to it, Brock didn’t think that the Soldier really knew what he was doing. Sex or intimacy wasn’t something he was programmed to know about. He was an asset to HYDRA the same way a rifle or a grenade was. You pulled out the Soldier when you wanted people dead, he didn’t have enough personality in that scrambled brain of his to spy, infiltrate or seduce. No, was is something pure and basic, instincts and need. It was fascinating to watch but it took Brock only a few seconds to realize that he missed hearing the sounds Steve made.

“Soldier!” Brock barked again, the only name the Asset listens to and identifies himself as. He doesn’t now though. To immersed in the way Steve’s lips must feel against his, working his tongue into that hot mouth while refusing to let up on Steve’s nipple between his fingers. It isn’t that Brock exactly minds the show in front of him, he could probably work himself up to a pretty good orgasm this way and then take the both Super-Soldiers back to base and have himself a celebratory party. But the Soldier was just like a dog, let it get away with not following orders and it will start thinking it is the one in charge. And that only ends one way – Brock had heard the stories of the handlers throughout history who have failed to control the Winter Soldier. He was not going to end up in bloody shreds, a cautionary tale for the next guy to replace him.

He yanks his hand left hand up, grabbing a good chunk of the Soldier’s hair close to the roots and puts every ounce of strength he has into pulling the Soldier’s head back. His other hand has a gun pointed to the bared throat of the Asset, safety off and pushing hard to where his neck meets his jaw. He has the upper hand, managed to catch the Soldier of guard, but despite that Brock doesn’t believe for a second that he could win if the Soldier decided to fight him. It is scary and exhilarating, making the adrenalin pump through his body fast enough that he can feel it everywhere in his blood.

The Soldier relaxes into his hold after three seconds. Brock is probably stupid to wait that long – Pierce would have shot the asset after just the one second probably. Maybe it is the fact that the blood in Brock’s body is currently trying to fill two of his heads at once that makes him hesitate, maybe it is the desire to show Steve that Brock is the one in control of his precious long lost friend. It doesn’t really matter – the only thing that does is that the Soldier knows who the boss is and is showing that he is willing to follow orders. Even though he is being ordered to step away from the most delicious treat on display in front of him.

Brock tugs hard on the Soldier’s hair a few times for good measure, just because he can. Because he likes the way distress creeps into the determined look of indifference on Steve’s face from seeing the Soldier in pain. Brock is going to have a lot of fun showing Steve just how much of a person the Asset isn’t anymore. He thinks that that is probably what will end up breaking Captain America, and he is the one who is going to make it happen. But that is for later.

“Hand’s only.” He orders before releasing his grip on the Soldier and holstering his gun again. The Soldier nods in acceptance of the order and Brock can’t help but smile smugly at Steve.

Sure it can be kind of addictive to have something as strong and powerful as the Soldier follow your every order, but Brock isn’t in it for that. A few of the other guys gets off on that alone, but what really does it for Brock is watching Steve’s reaction. Seeing him fighting with himself to not crumble, to keep up the hope that Brock knows is for nothing.

“You like having your tits played with, Cap?” Brock taunts, smiling when Steve’s body betrays him, his cock twitching at his words despite the stern look on that all-American face. “You want his hands back on ya?” The Soldier’s metal arm makes a few soft clinking noises as the fingers readjusts their grip on Steve’s wrists. He kept that grip when Rumlow disciplined him, but he took his flesh hand off of Steve’s body. Seems like he was itching to get it back.

Brock didn’t really feel like tempting faith too much by refusing the Soldier everything. Who knew what might make him snap. And he seemed awful keen on getting back to touching Steve.

“Go on, make him squirm and pant and beg for it.” Brock told the Soldier, who wasted no time planting his flesh hand back on Roger’s body. He went back to teasing a nipple with his fingernail since that seemed to be what got Steve going the most. Rogers tried to bite back his moans chewing on his lips until Brock was surprised they hadn’t turned into bloody shreds yet, but he couldn’t quite keep quiet under the Winter Soldier’s hands.

When Steve let out a string of _Bucky, Bucky, Bucky, oh, Bucky_ , his cock leaking a few drops of precome that dribbled down onto the floor, Brock couldn’t help but wonder about the two super-soldier’s history. There had to have been something sexual between these men before, there was no way the Winter Soldier knew Steve’s body this well without having tested its limits before. And a reason for why the Soldier, the perfect weapon that never strayed from its missions, had gotten derailed by Captain America. Rumlow had taken the Soldier on missions with plenty attractive targets and never stumbled in on a situation like this before.

The realization gave him a great idea. He reached around the Soldier’s body, unfastening the belt where he kept his weapons with a click and moved to undo the belt to his pants when that didn’t even get a reaction from the Soldier. It got a reaction from Rogers though. The Captain’s eyebrows shot up, the muscle of his arms tensing as he tried to strain against the magnetic cuffs despite knowing that he hadn’t been able to get out of them yet and he wouldn’t in any near future either.

Brock made quick work of the Soldier’s belt and wasted no time pulling his black uniform-pants down, letting them fall around his knees and not bothering to get them all the way off.

“Stay.” He ordered the Soldier even though it didn’t seem all that necessary. He clearly wasn’t about to move away from the naked form of Steve Rogers any time soon.

He bent his knees a bit, placing his hand on the inside of the Soldier’s thigh and guided his hand up slowly, letting the Captain see his fingers as they journeyed upward. That got him a reaction. Steve’s expression part horrified and part murderous jealously. The man who jumped out of airplanes without parachutes and fought thousands of flying space-aliens without so much as blinking was finally showing some weakness. And Christ was Brock going to enjoy taking advantage of that.

“Don’t worry Cap, our soldier here doesn’t mind this at all.” Brock said, sliding his fingers higher until they brushed the Soldier’s balls. “In fact” He continued, trailing them back to where Steve didn’t have view of them anymore but he knew damn well where they were headed. “He likes it. Takes it so good for us when we’re bored back at base.” Brock stretched that last part - he had never actually fucked the Winter Soldier himself. But since he was the Asset’s handler, the only one who would be able to talk him of a ledge if his programming would malfunction he was in charge. He supervised whenever someone wanted to stick their dick into the deathtrap that was the Soldier and get off on the compliant and warm super-soldier. It wasn’t his cup of tea, but Steve didn’t need to know that part. Especially not when the thought of Brock inside Bucky had Steve screaming in rage.

“Nooooo!” Steve started fighting the restraints again, trashing as well as he could but not really doing any good, especially since the Winter Soldier put a hand on his hip, pressing him into the wall of computer-servers and holding him still against it.

“Don’t do anything rash now Captain.” Rumlow warned. “You get violent, I might have to get violent as well.” He said, inclining his head toward the Soldier and that was all it took for Steve go lax. Not just tense but still in defiance or stoic in lack of another option, but completely submissive and relenting. It was beautiful thing to watch and Brock bit the inside of his cheek to keep his body’s reaction in check. It was a good thing he was till clothed, his uniform pressing quite uncomfortably against his erection, otherwise he might have been close to blowing his load like a fucking teenager by that visual alone. It was beyond frustrating that Steve had that kind of power over him, even tied up and at his most vulnerable he could still get under Brock’s skin.

He checked his phone briefly, frowning at the time they had left before the entire building would blow, and with it the last of the UN’s weapons and control-bases. There wasn’t nearly enough time left for Brock to get to everything he wanted to do to the former national icon. He’d have to settle for a taste now and then go as far as to beg whatever god that would listen for more when the mission was finished and Captain America brought into HYDRA headquarters to face Pierce.

Brock raised a challenging eyebrow and smirked as he let his finger brush over the Asset’s dry entrance, letting Steve know exactly what was going on even though he couldn’t see it. Brock rubbed over the hole a few times, the Soldier holding completely still save for the hand that was still working Steve’s nipple, just like he’d been ordered.

Steve shivered, his mouth opening, undoubtedly to say something but what came out was a long moan as the Soldier started plucking on his nipple, teasing it with no mercy. He took another breath, this time managing to get out words, _No, don’t, no, no, please, don’t_ , and Brock didn’t know if the pleas were meant for him of the Soldier. Maybe both. He pushed against the Soldier’s hole, his dry finger catching on the rim before he added some more force. He felt the Soldier’s reaction, the instinct to clench up against the intrusion and then the remembering of the order he’d been given to remain still, his muscles relaxing a bit.

Being inside the Soldier felt better than Brock had imagined and he’d never look down on his fellow soldiers for enjoying the Asset again. He kept pushing the finger deeper into the soldier until it was buried to the first knuckle, not holding back the groan when he imagined his cock in place of that digit. Fuck, the Soldier was warm and tight and so, so warm.

The look of terror on Steve’s face as the Captain realized what Brock was doing was worth every ounce of pain he’d suffered under HYDRA to get here, to this moment. He groaned, overdoing the sound more than strictly necessary just to bask in the reaction from Steve, and started moving the finger inside. The Soldier exhaled, his breath a bit shaky, shit, yes, that _was_ jealousy flickering over Steve’s face for a second.

“Mmm, he feels so good, Cap. Such a good little soldier.” Brock allowed himself to revel in the feeling a few moments, exploring the inside of the Winter Soldier, never breaking eye-contact with Steve. Steve who was so obviously torn between trashing against his restraints and staying put so that Rumlow wouldn’t follow through on his threat and kill the thing he thought was his friend. Not that Rumlow would actually do that unless the Asset disobeyed a direct order, he was way too important to HYDRA. Hell, Pierce probably valued the life of the Soldier above Rumlow’s own life. But again, Steve didn’t know any of that.

“Suck on your finger Soldier, get it wet, and then put it inside him. Show ‘im what I’m doing to you.” He ordered and the Soldier immediately started following through on the order. Steve hissed at the cool press of metal against his hole when really he should be fucking thanking Brock. He could have ordered the Soldier to just shove one of his knives up there and he would have been obeyed. But he wanted Steve to enjoy this, that was the point. You didn’t break Captain America by violence, that much was clear.

There were about a dozen hilarious jokes Brock could make about the fist of HYDRA right now, but he was way too good for that. Instead he started fucking his finger in and out of the Soldier in earnest, giving up his exploration of the Soldier’s inside to ram the digit inside with force. He smiled when the Soldier mimicked his change in pace, giving exactly what he got right back to Steve. Fuck Brock wished that he had enough time to whip out his cock and do more than this. But he wasn’t particularly keen on being blown to bits, even if he went down buried in Captain America’s ass.

“Such a pretty picture.” He mused, smirking as Steve lost the ability to control his body when the Soldier hit just the right spot inside of him. He was breathing fast, shallow breaths, moaning shakily every once in a while as the Soldier kept rubbing fingers over his nipples. “Just look at you. Captain America, the Nation’s hero. More like the Nation’s slut, eh. Dripping all over yourself, just from having your tits played with and a finger in your ass.” And fuck if Brock didn’t see the way his words made Steve squirm.

“Maybe if you’d gone into the porn industry instead of the army you might’ve actually saved the world.” He kept talking, because Steve had closed his eyes, as if he could pretend to be somewhere else. Brock wasn’t going to let that happen though. He added another finger into the Soldier and Steve’s next inhale was tinted with pain as the Soldier mirrored Brock’s action. “Feels good, don’t it Cap? I bet you even like a bit of pain, don’t you?” Brock didn’t actually pay that much attention to the actual substance of his words, just letting whatever popped into his mind spill out until something landed the right way.

“Not that it matters what you like. Or what your old buddy here likes.” He was doing shallow thrusts, making sure that the Captain wouldn’t be able to lose himself to any sensations and risk missing what Brock was saying. “You are both mine to use. And you’re gonna let me. Ain’t you? You’re gonna let me do whatever I want to you, or I’m gonna take it out on the Soldier.” Steve’s eyes snapped back open at the threat and Brock smirked at him, challenge obvious in his eyes. Daring Steve to try and fight him. Relaying with his eyes that he would enjoy cutting the Soldier up and putting more holes in him than there were in Swiss cheese just as much as he would enjoy fucking him.

He put a bit more force behind his thrusts, shoving deeper at a slow and steady pace as he listened to Steve’s ragged breaths. “Mm, yeah. Take it, fuck.” He muttered, getting distracted by the way Steve’s breath hitched every time the Soldier ran his thumb over a nipple now. Christ, those things had to be aching right now considering how much they’d been pulled and teased already. But Steve didn’t seem the least bit uncomfortable, just the opposite. His cock looked just as hard as Rumlow felt his own was, precome gleaming at the tip of the red head.

“Sluts, the both of you. Super-soldiers with all the strength in the world but shove something in your ass and you whine like bitches.” Brock chuckled a bit as he managed to draw out a first actual sound from the Soldier at that point. Not even the embodiment of discipline and endurance could keep it together when that spot inside him was being rubbed the right way. And now that he’d found it Brock made the most of it, jamming his fingers in hard but not setting up a steady rhythm just yet. He didn’t want the Soldier to be able to brace himself for the chocks of arousal that must have gone off in his body, the surprised grunts he made every time absolutely delicious.

“See how good he takes it, hm Steve? Perfect obedient little fucktoy. Letting me do anything I want. Fuck his greedy little hole with my fingers. He’d let me do it until he cried if I told ‘im to.” Brock quickly became addicted to goading the Captain this way as he watched him struggle between giving in to how good the Soldier was making him feel and trying to fight Brock to the death. It was way better than any adrenaline rush he ever gotten from fighting, way better than any sex he’d ever had even though he hadn’t even gotten his dick near the action yet. “’n he cries real pretty too. You wanna hear?” He chuckled a bit as the color drained a bit from Roger’s face. The Captain was so easy like this. If they’d known about this weakness HYDRA would have been able to execute Project Insight without the slight hiccup that Steve Rogers provided. They could have marched into the Triskelion pointing a gun at the Winter Soldier and gotten their world dominance on the spot, instead of having to fight SHIELD for months. Oh well.

“Or maybe we should put his other hole to better use? Screaming ain’t the only thing he does well with his mouth.” Brock let his unoccupied hand reach up to the Soldier’s face, smirking as he saw Rogers’ eyes track his movements. He was tempted to run his palm across the Soldier’s throat, maybe even squeeze and cut of his air supply for a bit, just to watch the reaction on Steve’s face. But he was only about eighty percent sure that the Soldier would let him do something that aggressive and threatening, and he didn’t want to take any chances. Instead he let his index and middle finger run over the Soldier’s lips, teasing himself, imagining what it would feel like if it was his cock instead, smearing beads of precome over those lips. Fuck he wanted that. But he also didn’t want to risk being caught with his pants down (literally) if the time of detonation would be premature.

He pressed his fingers inside the Asset’s mouth, fingers sliding over wet tongue as he pushed deeper past the row of teeth. He groaned loudly at the feel, only half for Steve’s benefit. He drew them out again, slowly, added a third one as he pushed back in and mirrored the motion with the hand in the Soldier’s ass, adding a third finger there as well. Whatever noise the Soldier made at the feel of the further stretch was muffled by Brock’s fingers, but he felt the vibrations of his tongue and it felt fucking amazing. The fingers in the Soldier’s mouth weren’t the only ones what were wet now though, something must have teared because blood was slicking the way inside of the Asset. Not that Rumlow worried about that – the Asset had walked through a desert for days with several bullet-wounds, he had had his back whipped until you could see bone and been branded with hot iron and didn’t have a single scar from any of it. Something like this wouldn’t permanently damage him.

“Mm, he’s getting all wet for me too. Slicking up real nice, just like a girl.” It was hilarious to watch as Steve didn’t understand what he meant at first, and then see as the realization hit him and his eyes went wide in disbelief, terror. Betrayal? Gees, the good Captain was just too much.

“You said- _ah, ah,_ Buck. _Bucky_.” Steve started but his protest was cut off as the Soldier plucked more intently on one of his nipples, demanding Rogers’ full attention. “You said you wouldn’t hurt him.” Steve tried again, gritting the words out between his teeth so that he wouldn’t accidentally moan instead.

“That’s funny. I don’t recall saying anything like that.” Brock teased and restrained himself hard not to roll his eyes at how blue-eyed the Captain really was. Rumlow was HYDRA, for crying out loud. Just a few months back he’d been trying to kill children and grandma’s with gigantic machineguns in the sky just to eliminate potential threats. And here Steve was thinking that he was going to honor some vague non-verbal agreement because he had some kind of _honor_? Really?

“Sides, it ain’t like this is gonna do any permanent damage. He’ll be healed up and good to go again in hours. Just as virgin-tight as always, don’t worry.” Slick, squelching noises filled the room as Brock fucked in an out of the Soldier harder. He set up matching rhythm with the fingers in his mouth as well, stuffing the Soldier full and making sure that Rogers wouldn’t miss how he put everything he had in his thrusts.

“Fuck yeah. Fucking made for this.” He muttered, wishing again that he had more time at his disposal. He withdrew his hand from the Soldier’s mouth and curled his wet fingers around the Captain’s cock, already slick from the way he’d been leaking since the Soldier got his hands on him. Steve’s face twisted up in a grimace as he realized it was Brock’s hand on him, his jaw setting in stubborn determination as he tried to steel himself from coming. Brock took it as a personal challenge, tightening his grip and started stroking the cock in his hands for real.

The Captain’s breathing turned ragged real fast and Brock couldn’t help but laugh as the man’s inner struggle was written all over his face. The Soldier’s finger in his ass, rubbing against his sweet spot and the grip on his cock would win over his determination so not give in any second now.

“You gonna come like this Cap? You gonna come like a slut? From having fingers in your ass and your tits played with? Hm? You gonna show your boy how desperate you are for it? What a slut you are?” Steve came with a sound like someone had punched him in the gut, knocking all the air out of him. Rumlow kept his grip on the Captain’s cock, kept stroking him with a calloused palm until the man squirmed and whimpered. And would you look at that, Captain America wasn’t invincible after all, he was in fact, pathetic.

“Fucking whore.” Brock muttered as he finally withdrew his hand, wiping the Captain’s come off on his naked chest as he went. Not that he would have minded spending another hour at the least torturing Rogers, but they were pressed on time and Brock’s own dick was aching inside his pants.

“Get yourself off.” He ordered the Soldier, his fingers still buried in the Asset like he never wanted to have to withdraw them. He pulled himself out with one hand and it didn’t even take him five strokes to paint Steve’s stomach white with his come. He’d have to explain that to HYDRA command when he came back, and that wouldn’t be very pleasant. But it would be completely worth it to see the way Steve tried to recoil but couldn’t move more than an inch to get away.

When he took removed his fingers from inside the Soldier the Asset seemed to take that as permission to move again, and he stepped even closer to Rogers. Brock didn’t really care how the Soldier wanted his kicks as he tucked himself back into his pants and fished around in his pocket for his phone. He’d managed to time the whole thing perfectly with five minutes to spare to get them out to the extraction-point before the building would blow. They wouldn’t need more than three.

The Soldier removed his hand from Steve’s ass and put it on his dick and Brock instantly decided that as fun as this had all been he’d make sure to keep that metal-thing away from his own body and especially his dick in the future. He’d seen what the soldier could to do steal-beams and fucking tanks with that thing. He watched as the Soldier raised his other hand from Steve’s pecs to cradle the side off his face in a weirdly intimate gesture for an assassin wiped of all positive encounters with people. He’d make sure to put the Asset back into the chair once they were back at base, just to be safe.

“Knock him out and bring him.” Brock ordered as he turned around to leave the room, not really that interested in hearing the Soldier’s grunts as he came. A minute later the sound of Steve’s head being dashed against the server-wall repeatedly made Brock smile a genuine smile for the first time in a long time. This was the best fucking day he’d had since he got a promotion within HYDRA and got to be the Soldier’s handler.


	2. the Winter Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Same events as last chapter, but written from the Winter Soldier's perspective.

He is a soldier.

He is a weapon.

He is the fist of HYDRA.

He is a weapon.

He is something _more_.

He feels it stirring deep under the surface when he looks at the blonde man in front of him. Trying to bubble up from underneath all of the things he knows consciously.

He can’t let it.

He is a weapon.

He is _the_ weapon.

The most efficient and effective weapon even known to mankind. He doesn’t hesitate, he doesn’t miss, he doesn’t malfunction. He follows order, goes of wherever his handler points him and leaves destruction in his path. He has shaped centuries and brought nations to its knees.

He eliminates targets. He finishes missions. That is what he does. It is what he was made to do. Utter perfection and accuracy, nothing more, nothing less. He doesn’t stray from the rules, never does anything that wasn’t necessary for his mission because that is all he knows. He prides himself on being the best.

Weapons doesn’t have feelings.

They don’t look at their targets and feel like they are about to break or self-implode because of what they see in their targets eyes. But if he feels that way, than that must mean that he isn’t just a weapon. Because weapons can’t have feelings. Right?

He can feel his programming failing. He feels his brain trying to make connections to empty spaces in his mind and it frustrates him to the point of rage. It feels worse than bones breaking or fire trying to strip him of his skin. If this is a punishment for something he did wrong, then it is the best punishment his handlers has ever thought of.

But it’s not a punishment, he knows that. HYDRA wouldn’t play confusing mind-games or intentionally mess up his programming. That’s not how they do things. They hold him under water until he feel his body dying from the inside. They whip him until they see bone and they press hot iron to his temples until all he knows is pain.

This is not that.

This is the opposite of that.

This is bliss and how things are supposed to be, and he doesn’t know how he knows that. Weapons have no use for things like happiness or excitement. Either there is pain or there isn’t. Either there is a mission or there is nothing.

He _wants_ things.

He doesn’t notice it at first. Not until the man in front of him says the words and light a fire deep in his bones. He isn’t supposed to feel things in his bones, bones doesn’t have nerves in them.

He wants to get his hands on the man in front of him. The man named Steve. He wants to stay in the man’s space for ever, he wants to keep searching for the memories he knows he should have in those deep, blue eyes. He wants to fight beside him, not against him.

He should finish his mission. His handler is waiting for him to finish it, do kill the Captain. _Captain America, threat level 10. Kill on sight._ He is going to be punished for his hesitation. They make sure that he forgets everything between his missions except his punishments.

But he _wants_ things.

Cupping his fingers around the man’s throat does something to him. It should make him press down harder, muscle memory alone should make him crush the vulnerable flesh under his fingers. He needs to finish his mission. But he doesn’t want to. If he finishes the mission he’ll never hear the man speak again. He’ll never hear the words Bucky, or please. He doesn’t know why he likes to hear them – he doesn’t know why they make him feel like there is a storm raging inside him.

There are no storms inside him. Storms are weather, they aren’t inside people.

He isn’t even a person.

Weapons don’t feel things.

But he does.

There is a war inside him. Explosions, grenades and gunfire, confusion and loss and desperation. Everything happens too quickly. He is a weapon made of war, he is never confused by the noise and chaos of battle. It makes him sharper. It doesn’t now. He doesn’t know how to reign his mind in, how to kill the myriad of feelings trickling down his spine, into his heart, around in his brain. They move to fast for him to catch them, they are slippery and unfamiliar and he wants them to _go away_.

He tightens his grip on his mission. The gears in his arm spinning as they do what they were made for. If he ends his mission the feelings will go away, he is sure of it. He will go back to being a weapon, all conflicts wiped from his mind. He will be fresh and ready to serve his purpose, he will be efficient and precise again. Free to follow orders the way he was made to.

If he doesn’t end the mission punishment is sure to follow. Punishment for failure is way worse than punishment for failure. He doesn’t want to be punished. He doesn’t want to be malfunctioning. He wants to be what he is supposed to be. He wants to be the very best weapon HYDRA has, he wants to fulfill his purpose. He wants to be useful.

Those are things he wants.

The fingers curl around tendons and flesh and the pulse beneath his fingers starts to flutter, grows weaker and irregular. He feels the vibrations under his palm as the man tries to draw air into his lungs. As Steve struggles to breathe.

Not his mission.

Not just a man.

He can’t tell why Steve is different. Why looking into his eyes feels like staring down at the bottom of a cliff and being terrified to fall to the ground. He doesn’t feel fear. He would be fine if he fell. His body would repair itself within hours. He is just looking at a man, he shouldn’t be seeing anything else than white and blue and black, but he sees something more. And he doesn’t want it to stop.

Hope. That is what he sees in Steve’s eyes. He isn’t stupid – he is a weapon programmed to know many more things than regular people. He accesses the knowledge in his brain with a sharp clarity and precision that they don’t have. Their thoughts are muddled with feelings and faulty memories and irrelevant information. He knows what hope is. But he has never _felt_ it. He thinks he wants to feel it when he looks into Steve’s eyes.

He wrenches his hand away, stops himself from killing Steve before he can even take the conscious decision to do so. He’ll be punished, but it’ll be worth it. He’ll be kicked until the shards of his ribs pierces his organs. He’ll be beaten until his face is unrecognizable. They’ll put their electric sticks on his temples until everything but pain is erased, until he goes mad from it. And then they’ll put him back on ice and he won’t come out for a long time. They will think less of him, say that he is broken and worthless.

It will be worth it.

He doesn’t know how he knows that, and it drives up the storm inside him again. How can he know that letting Steve live will be worth all that? He isn’t programmed to know that or to think that way. Obeying orders and completing missions is what he is programmed to do. It is all he knows how to do.

He isn’t supposed to hurt Steve. He has never _wanted_ to hurt Steve.

His handler calls him and the Asset breathes a breath of relief. He’ll be given an order and the order will blissfully set his mind right again. It’ll wipe away the confusion and the feelings. His handler will point him in a direction, squeeze the trigger and the Soldier will execute.

The order doesn’t come.

He feels the floor drop from underneath him, leaving him to fall and fall and fall. _(He falls into ice, falls for an eternity before he hits the snow. Has he ever fallen like that?)_ He feels his mind shatter into a thousand pieces and he wants to drop to his knees. He wants to beg and cry and _beg_ for his handler to not torture him like this. He wants an order. He wants clarity and simplicity, he wants to be a weapon.

He doesn’t want to be ordered around.

He doesn’t like that, he fucking hates being told what to do. No, that’s not right. Being told what to do is all he knows, it is what he was made for, it is his purpose. Just like it is a grenade’s purpose to blow up, or a gun’s purpose to fire bullets. He does everything he is ordered to and he does it perfectly, better than any other – whether they be human or weapon.

The man speaks that word again. _Bucky_. It makes the Soldier want all kinds of things. He can’t catch them, can’t keep them in one place in his mind long enough to figure out exactly what they are or what they mean but he feels like maybe he could soon. If he had more time.

“Steve.” He says the man’s name, tries it out. It feels good on his lips, it feels right. He is rewarded by another string of Bucky’s. It feels like a reward, anyway. Hearing the word from the man. He feels like his life was terribly dull and meaningless before he heard it. Like hearing it turned on a light-switch in a dark room.

He can see perfectly fine in dark rooms. He doesn’t need any light-source.

“Steve.” He repeats it and it feels even better the third time. The man smiles and the Asset feels like he is drowning in those eyes. But it isn’t the bad kind of drowning. It’s not the terrifying kind of drowning, not the panicked burning in his lungs when he is being held under water until he feels like he is going to die. It is a good kind of drowning.

There is no such thing as a good kind of drowning.

He wants to drown in Steve’s eyes. He wants to leap from the cliff. He wants to get his hands on the man. He wants to be close to him, wants to hold on and never let go.

His body knows more than he does, it seems. It is smart, his body. It knows how to be a weapon even better than his sharp mind does. It knows things he can’t even put words to, but which are amazing. It knows how to make Steve gasp and whimper, but not it’s not sounds of pain. It is the opposite.

The Asset knows about pleasure and ecstasy as things people, _humans_ , experience. Weapons doesn’t feel things like that. They don’t feel anything. He feels pain because it is necessary for him, he wouldn’t be a very good weapon if he didn’t feel his injuries. But when there isn’t pain he doesn’t feel anything. Except now he does.

And what does that mean?

Touching Steve is intoxicating. He won’t ever stop, he promises himself. He will fight anyone who tries to take this away from him. Those noises tells him that Steve feels _good_. The Asset is making him feel good. They asked him what he wants – this is what he wants.

He doesn’t want to eliminate his target, he doesn’t want to complete his mission. He doesn’t want to kill Captain America. He doesn’t want to hurt Steve. He wants to make Steve feel good. He wants Steve to look at him with those blue eyes and say Bucky until the Asset can get out from underneath his programming. His programming is on top of something else, he is sure of it now. He was programmed to be a weapon, but he was something else underneath it. Things inside him were removed to make way for knowledge and obedience. He wants to scratch it until he bleeds, until he can see what is under the surface.

His handler is punishing him. Giving him another order. Talking over him and putting his hands all over him. The Asset doesn’t care about any of it. He follows the orders but only a fraction of him is really listening. He gets to put his hands back on Steve and he wants to _melt_ when he hears a sting of Bucky’s.

He follows more orders because they will get him closer to Steve. He ignores the words, gets lost in the feeling of being _inside_ Steve. But Steve’s attention is divided, and he isn’t lost in pleasure as the Asset touches him anymore. The Soldier recognizes several of the human expressions for emotion as they flicker over Steve’s face, but he doesn’t like any of them. Steve feels pain, desperation, sadness, rage and worry and he shouldn’t be.

The Asset wants to protect him from those things.

It’s his job.

His mission.

 _That_ is what he is supposed to do.

_(- You don’t have to take care of me all the damn time._

_\- Yes I do._

_\- I don’t want you to!_

_\- I want to._

_\- I can take care of myself._

_\- I know you do. Thing is, you don’t have to.)_

He is being filled up from all sides, uncomfortably stretched and crowded. He wants to fight it. Wants to bite his handler’s fingers and snap the bones in his body into small pieces and then shove them down his throat. But they’ll take Steve away from him for sure if he does. He’ll be punished if he doesn’t obey, and he could handle any physical damage they tried to do to his body but he couldn’t handle not having Steve. Maybe if he was good enough they’d let him have Steve. As a reward.

He’d never gotten a reward before.

Maybe it was time. Maybe he hadn’t executed his missions well enough to earn a reward before. Maybe if he did better he’d earn Steve.

Weapons didn’t get rewards.

They didn’t need rewards. They needed maintenance and loading, nothing more.

But he needed Steve.

He wanted Steve.

That had to mean that he was more than a weapon. If he wants and need things.

His handler turns away and he crowds closer to Steve. Mumbles the name under his breath as he leans his forehead against the man’s. And then he has a moment of clarity. He forces himself not to scream as electricity runs through his mind, makes him dizzy and hurt real bad. But it doesn’t last more than a second and when he meets Steve’s eyes again he _knows_ things.

Bucky isn’t just a word.

Bucky is him.

He was Steve’s once. Before they stole him.

He wants to be Steve’s again.

He opens his mouth to tell him, but the words that come out are something else entirely.

“Till the end of the line.”

It’s not what he wanted to say at all. But it feels like he got his message through anyway. He doesn’t know why he feels that way. Or why Steve smiles before Bucky is forced to know him unconscious.


End file.
